Alan Grant and Ellie Sattler: The Love is Gone
by Not-as-Thrilling-as-Advertised
Summary: A terrible story of shattered dreams and bitter tears.
1. And So it Begins

**A Note: **I wrote this story (if you can call it that) five years ago, at the tender age of nineteen. I was younger then (I mean, _duh, _obviously right?), and was a different person from the man I am today. In my foolish youth, I would often seek to mock and destroy that which I found worthy of derision.

And so it was that I learned of an absurdly long, melodramatic _Jurassic Park_ fanfiction story, centering on the relationship of Alan Grant and Ellie Sattler. Even in my foolishness I probably would have simply let this be, but this story's writer, and the community she was a part of, took themselves _entirely too seriously._ That I hadn't actually read a single word of this fanfic made no difference. They commited the sin of pride, and so, like some sort of scrawny, socially inept god of old, I descended from the heavens to punish them. This is what I unleashed.

Okay, it's complete and utter garbage. It took me, at most, ten minutes to write each chapter. But on the tissue-thin skins of the target community, it was an atom bomb. Havoc was wrought. Feelings were hurt. Death threats were leveled at me. (Seriously.)

Read this, humble internet traveler, and see just how little it can take to spread chaos in a writing community. Also laugh and mock the hell out of it because damn, it's god-awful.

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**ALAN GRANT AND ELLIE SATTLER: THE LOVE IS GONE**

_A Tale of Shattered Dreams and Bitter Tears_

_Chapter 1 of 4,752_

In the dimly lit apartment, the flickering television set cast dancing shadows on the walls. Dr. Alan Grant, world renowned paleontologist, lounged on the stained sofa in his boxers and wife-beater shirt. His old brown felt hat sat on his head like a dazed turtle that had been run though a machine that compresses turtles into hat shapes. Flipping the channel, he took another swig of his cheap beer and belched thunderously.

In the kitchen, Ellie Sattler, world renowned (but not quite renowned as Grant) paleobotanist (who for some reason worked on digs in sediments that would never ever yield plant fossils) was doing the dishes because she was a woman and a woman's place is the kitchen. As she hummed a little ditty from the forties, she wiped her hands on her red polka-dotted white apron and and went out into the living room.

"Alan, hon," she said sweetly, "Did you fix that squeaky hinge in the bathroom we'd talked about?"

"Shut up woman," Grant blurted out, "Jeff Corwin's on!"

"But you promised to do it over a week ago," she pouted, starting to get all hormonal and stuff because that's what broads do. "And it's really annoying!"

"YOU'RE annoying," Grant spewed. "Ooh, lookit the size of that snake!"

Then Ellie lost it because women are so emotional and shit. "YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE!" she shrieked, like a baby squirrel caught in a bike chain.

Grant totally blew his stack, heaving his beer can across the room and lurching to his feet. "Stop that racket, you stupid baby factory!" he bellowed. Ellie couldn't answer, because she was bawling too hard. "I'M GONNA PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE!" Grant started toward her with his fists raised, one in front of the other like an Irish boxer from the 1920s. Then he tripped on an allosaur femur he'd brought home and fell flat on his face. Their pomeranian, who didn't like him because he kicked it every chance he got, raced in like a furry bullet and latched onto his face. He writhed around on the floor, screaming obscenities and racial epithets at the dog and spraying blood everywhere.

Suddenly the door burst open and the cops charged in, called by the neighbors. They stood laughing for a few minutes, before beating Grant savagely with their batons and shotgun butts before dragging him off to the clink.


	2. It Will End in Fire

**ALAN GRANT AND ELLIE SATTLER: THE LOVE IS GONE**

_A Tale of Shattered Dreams and Bitter Tears_

_Chapter 2 of 6,849_

It was high noon, and Dr. Alan Grant, the most famous paleontologist who ever existed, besides all the other paleontologists more famous than him, was in agony. It had been a solid hour since he'd last had a beer and the lights in this goddamned Alcoholics Anonymous room were too fucking bright, Jesus Christ. He shoved his floppy felt hat farther down on his skull-shaped head and grumbled under his breath.

Finally it was his turn to speak. Like a drugged bear, he lurched awkwardly to his feet, fighting off the haze from the paint thinner he'd huffed while driving here. "Hello, my Alan is name Grant, and I'm only here because that motherfucker judge made me come."

The counsellor shook his effeminate head. "Mr. Grant, we do not accuse judges of giving in to Oedipal complexes."

"You don' tell me what to do, I dig up bones and that makes me smart!" Alan roared, showering those seated nearby with spittle.

A man seated behind him stood up. "Come on man, sit down," he said.

"I don't take orders from a hinge crank!" Grant bellowed, confusing everyone because they didn't know what "hinge crank" meant and the man was white. Abruptly he calmed down. "I aint had a drink in about an hour and I'm dyin'." Then he sat down in his cheap folding metal chair and belched.

Next a woman stood up. "My name is Amy Jones, and I'm-"

"WOOOOOOO!! TAKE IT OFF!!" Everyone turned to stare at Grant, who had suddenly managed to get hold of a beer hat. He was sipping furiously, and the alcohol was mixing with the buzz from the paint thinner.

"Mr. Grant, this is an AA meeting!" the counsellor said. Grant threw his chair at him and dove out the window. Upon reaching the ground outside he began running home.

--

Ellie Sattler was looking at a dandelion through a magnifying glass when Grant burst into their home, bleeding and drunk. At some point he'd traded his beer hat for a giant foam cowboy hat.

"Bake me a pie, woman!" he snarled, and turned on the TV.

"How was youir day, dear?" Ellie asked.

"Shut up! The Plannet's Funniest Animals is about to start!" Dejectedly, Ellie went in the kitchen, where all women belong, and got to work on the pie. In the living room she heard Grant chortle heartily (and drunkenly). "Oh, that Matt Gellant! What _won't _he say?"

An hour later, Ellie brought Grant his pie just as the fourth consecutive episode of The Planet's Funniest Animals began, because they show that show all the time, that and those damn animal cop shows. She was almost back in the kitchen when Grant called to her. She turned just in time to get the pie right in her paleobotanist face. The heavy ceramic plate broke her nose, and scalding hot pie filling got into her eyes and nostrils. Grant laughed uproariously, while Ellie screamed in pain, clawing at her face, which was a mess of superheated pie filling and blood.

Then the police, called by the neighbors, burst into the room, threw a heavy net over grant, and began jabbing him with cattle prods.

NEXT EPISODE: NO NEXT EPISODE IT'S OVER.

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I would apologize for subjecting you to that, but hey, you're the one who didn't hit the browser's Back button, not me.


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